


Experiment

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (like jon's about 16 theon's about 18 i think that's legal most places), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Denial, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Experimentation, Sexuality Crisis, Smut and Fluff, possibly underage depending on ur local laws?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 19:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15669960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: A jock plays a mean prank on a science nerd, and is forced to apologise. A conversation ensues, as well as something else.





	Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> Kink generator provided: "repression + geek/jock pairing." Fair warning tho, there is SO MUCH TALKING before the smut in this one.

“Robb said I ought to apologise to you.”

Jon stares, standing on his doorstep, letting the cold air in. For a moment he contemplates whether he can just slam the door in Theon's face, tell him to piss off without uttering a word, but no, that's not like him. He sighs.

“Come in, then.”

Unusually sheepish, Theon steps inside, even taking a moment to wipe his stupid scribbled-over converse on the mat, git. Jon huffs as he returns to the sitting room, taking his seat on the couch and letting Theon see the notes spread all over the coffee table.

“Three bloody weeks I'd been working on that project,” he snaps, pleased by how intimidated Theon looks by all the learning on display. “Three weeks. And you go and wreck it all, what – for fun?”

“Uh...” says Theon, and from the look on his face, Jon would wager he hadn't really thought about just how shitty his behaviour was before now. “Look, mate, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't think it was so important. I thought it was just, you know, a nerd hobby. I don't know what you do for fun!”

Jon glares at him. “That doesn't make you sound like any less of a cock, Theon,” he says, and Theon grimaces as if he knows it. He's not used to getting chewed out by anyone but his dad or his swim coach. “Nice people don't go around destroying other people's labour's of love. Nor to do they go around destroying other people's important Environmental Science projects.” He sighs. “You're lucky Mrs. Asshai likes me, gave me an extension. Otherwise I might have just punched you in the jaw the second you showed up.”

“What, you think you can take me Snow?” Theon grins at him, before Jon raises an eyebrow and he remembers that's not how apologies are usually conducted. “Uh. I mean – that's good, isn't it? C'mon, that Mrs. Asshai, she'd do anything for you mate. And she's not bad looking either. You could totally earn your grades another way, if you know what I mean.”

“Theon.”

“I'm just saying.”

“ _Theon_.”

Theon shuts up, and Jon leans back on the sofa, rubbing his forehead briefly. He's starting to get a headache, a not uncommon occurrence whenever Theon Greyjoy enters his life. It's been like this ever since he was ten years old, and Robb first came over to his on the weekend going on about his new best friend who was in the year above them and was the coolest ever. Jon didn't quite believe him, and even less so once he actually met the guy. Ever since they've known each other, Theon has been picking on him. He supposes he's an easy target, a science geek, mopey and sullen – Theon's a jock, after all, bullying someone's probably in his contract somewhere. Robb's always getting Theon to apologise to him, and telling him that Theon doesn't mean it, not really, and he comes from a rough home so you have to be understanding – and it's not like Jon is completely devoid of sympathy, but still, his patience wore thin about five bloody years ago.

“I'm just sick of it, Theon,” he says, trying to put his inner monologue into words. “This always happens! You do some shitty thing, and then Robb gets mad at you for it, so you apologise and act like it won't happen again – but it does, it always fucking does. Why? Why can't you just leave me alone?”

Theon averts his eyes, and Jon expects some sort of snide remark – _c'mon, you're too fun to pick on Snow, I'm only human –_ but Theon says nothing. Jon rubs his temples, headache worsening.

“The thing is, you're not always that bad,” Jon says, surprising himself. He wasn't planning on saying that. Theon looks up, clearly as shocked as he is, and Jon realises he can't get out of the sentence now. Fuck. “You can actually be very funny.” Theon looks utterly bewildered, and Jon suddenly realises, he's not sure he's ever heard Theon receive an actual compliment before. For such a star athlete, every time he's ever shown up after practice to hang out with Robb, Theon always seems to be getting shouted at for one reason or another.

He's never really thought that yes, he finds Theon funny before. But he supposes he must do. There must be some reason he's not told him that he never wants to see him again.

“But you always take it too far,” he adds, and Theon, bizarrely, looks a little crushed. Jon swallows. He shouldn't feel guilty, not when he knows he's in the right. “You hurt people's feelings. You hurt my feelings. We nerds do have them, from time to time.”

“I'm sorry,” Theon mumbles, looking down again, and this time, it sounds like he means it.

Jon just stares at him a moment, and seeing Theon like that, bashful and ashamed, actually puts him in a forgiving mood. He's just not sure if he should forgive.

The silence gets too uncomfortable then, and Theon starts looking around the room awkwardly. “Where's your mum, by the way?” Theon asks.

“Out,” Jon says, maybe a little more bluntly than necessary. He knows all too well about Theon's tendencies to throw himself at any woman who passes by, and he tends not to be dissuaded by those who have a few years on him. He's made a couple of comments about Mrs. Stark behind Robb's back that Jon's sometimes thought, if he was really pissed at Theon, could absolutely be used to get Robb to take his revenge for him.

Theon snorts at him. “Specific, Snow,” he says, and Jon tries not to crack a smile. Okay, fair point.

“Some people have to work for a living,” Jon says.

“Yeah, but not in your bloody family,” Theon replies. “I'm Robb's best mate, remember? I know you're all old money gits.”

Jon sighs. Okay, true. “Yes, but my mum's bloody stubborn about it,” he says. “Wants to make her own way in the world.”

Theon looks at him a moment, then shrugs. “Alright. Good for her, I guess.” And Jon wonders when the conversation wandered off topic like this, why they're actually making small talk, but he supposes he's stuck with it now.

"You're not planning on leaving any time soon, are you?"

Theon opens his mouth, hesitates. It's not often he's left speechless. He knows he ought to leave. But he's not going to.

Jon, perhaps stupidly, pats the space on the couch next to him. "Come on. Sit down. I don't want your dad moaning that I wrecked your legs and ruined your chance of swimming for England."

Theon looks bemused, but chuckles as he walks over. "Thanks mate, but my dad's Danish, remember? He hates the English."

Jon is confused. "Since when do the Danish have something against us?"

"They don't, my dad's just a cunt."

"Oh." The sofa sinks as Theon sits next to him, and they gaze at each other awkwardly. Then Theon looks at all the papers spread in front of him, and raises his eyebrows.

"Fucking hell," he says. "I've not had Mrs. Asshai for science, but - are hot teachers really that hard to impress?"

Jon rolls his eyes. "I'm focused on my studies. Not everyone does everything just so all the girls will notice them."

Theon looks a little annoyed at that. "What, you prefer blokes then?" he drawls.

Jon's sure Theon's just teasing him, but maybe he's still a little cross, maybe he wants to scandalise Theon a bit. "Sometimes."

He keeps looking at his notes throughout, waiting for Theon to react.  _1, 2..._ "Wait, what?"

Jon looks up, his face perfectly unperturbed. "What?"

Theon's mouth flaps open and closed a couple of times. Jon has to try hard not to laugh. "You like men?"

"Yeah?"

"...You never told me that."

"Why would I?" Jon asks. "I don't like _you_."

"Oi!"

"What?" says Jon. "Do you want me to fancy you?"

"...'Course not," says Theon, a little quiet. Jon frowns. "But still, you know, I hadn't heard. Does anyone know?" A pause. "Does Robb know?"

"...Maybe?" he says, looking up in thought. He's not sure, now he thinks about in. "I mean, I've never lied to him about it, but I'm not sure I've ever mentioned it either."

"How can you not  _know_?!" Theon all but shouts at him, and Jon jumps back, startled. "I mean, how do you know he wouldn't - I don't know. Care?"

"Robb's not like that," Jon says, a little offended on his cousin's behalf. "Come on, you know him." He leans in, his suspicions raised. What's going on here?

"...Yeah, I know," Theon mumbles, averting his eyes again. "It's just..." he sighs. "My dad'd kill me if I..."

_Oh,_ thinks Jon, and he isn't quite sure what he means by that. "I mean, I don't make a big deal of it. My mum's open minded. I mention it when it comes up, it just doesn't very often." He pauses, then laughs. "I mean, I'm a science nerd. It's not like I'm getting laid anyway."

"You could do, though," Theon blurts out, and Jon is taken aback again. If he didn't know better, he'd say Theon was  _blushing._ "I mean, you're not terrible to look at. You’re ripped, for a nerd. I've heard a couple of the girls say they hey fancy you." A pause. "Wait, do you like girls as well?"

"Yeah," he says, and thinks over the sentence a bit. "Well, thanks I guess."

"Seriously, why are you so ripped?" Theon asks, grinning again, back to his usual self. "Bloody annoying, that is. All the coaches want to recruit you, and you don't even notice! Tease."

Jon laughs at that. "I don't have time for team sports. Again, study," he says, indicating his notes. "I do work out a bit, you know. Just to look after my health."

Theon rolls his eyes. "Oh of course, only concerned with proper fitness, no vanity at all. Twat. You're bloody Robb's cousin, aren't you?”

Jon just shakes his head at that, and looks over his notes once more, even though he is at this point thoroughly distracted.

“So uh...” Theon says awkwardly. “Have you ever – you know–” Jon looks up, and Theon gives a vague gesture. “...something, with a guy?”

Jon turns bright red. His first instinct is to shout: _mind your own business!_ But something stops him. He started the conversation, he realises. He feels almost obliged to spill now.

“A few times,” he mumbles embarrassedly. “Last year, I got roped into helping out back stage at the school play. Me and – well, one of the actors,” he doesn't have to be worried about outing anyone. Satin is the most out guy at their school. But still, Jon's not a hundred percent sure how cool Satin would be with everyone knowing about him having hooked up with Jon in particular. “We had a bit of a fling. Nothing serious. And we didn't go very far, you know, we were fifteen. But it was nice...”

He trails off, embarrassed again as he finds himself reflecting on the memories, and then he realises he's managed to make Theon turn red as well. That's strange. Theon's so fucking hypersexed, Jon thought he must have lost the ability to blush by he time he was thirteen.

“I see,” Theon says, averting his eyes again. Jon bites his lip. He knows he shouldn't pry, but...

“What about you?” he asks, as gently as he can. He and Theon might not get on that well, but he doesn't want to scare the guy. “Have you ever...?”

Theon's head snaps back up. “What?” Then he grins boisterously. It's not terribly convincing. “Nah. I've never even kissed a guy, me. C'mon Snow, this is me you're talking to – all about the pussy.”

Jon raises his eyebrows. Yes, he does know that. But now, he's looking at it in a different light. And he always did have a couple of suspicions about Robb and Theon, if he's honest. “What, never?” he asks. “Not even during – I don't know – spin the bottle, or something?”

Theon snorts. “Do I look like a twelve year old girl to you?”

“Hey, I'm a nerd. I don't know what you cool kids do at your parties,” Jon says, mildly annoyed again.

“Drink, mostly,” Theon informs him. Jon nods along. That makes sense. “And cry.” He blinks. Theon chuckles. “The two things are probably connected.”

“...Right.”

The conversation peters out than, Theon glancing aside. He might just get up and go soon, leaving this whole evening in a very awkward place and far away from the original purpose of an apology.

Slowly, but not slowly enough he has time to think it through, Jon places his hand on Theon's thigh.

Theon practically jumps, and then just stares at him in disbelief. “Snow,” he says, his voice practically a growl. “The fuck do you think you're...?”

Jon hesitates. He fully expects Theon to shove him away, to punch him in the face even, but he doesn't, he just keeps staring. After a moment, Jon creeps his hand further up. “You don't have to do anything,” he says, his voice soft and low – sultry even, or at least that's what he's going for; he has no idea if it's actually working. “But if you want to try something – well.” He gives a small smile. “I'm right here.”

This is stupid. He doesn't even like Theon most of the time, why would he offer to be his secret gay experience? This isn't like him at all; whether with girls or boys, he's usually pretty discreet, reserved about his sexuality. He doesn't just throw himself at any guy who shows up at his house.

Theon is gobsmacked again, turning even redder. “I'm not...!”

Jon shrugs at that. “Okay,” he says. He doesn't particularly mind what label ends up choosing. That's his business. “But you're clearly a bit curious,” he points out, raising an eyebrow, and Theon makes an offended noise. Jon squeezes his thigh gently. “You keep asking all these questions.”

Theon hesitates, his eyes darting back and forth like he's having a debate in his mind. While he's distracted, Jon pushes himself up off the sofa, swings his leg over Theon's body, and settles into his lap.

Christ.

_That's_ rather forward.

Jon blushes when he realises what he's done, while Theon makes a small noise of alarm. They're close. Too close. Jon can feel Theon's breath hot against his neck, and he shudders, heat starting to pool in his groin. He's always been aware that Theon is attractive, on an objective, clinical level – but just now does Jon think, that he himself wants Theon too.

And, he does suspect, Theon wants him too.

They stare at each other again, and Theon seems still stunned by this turn of events. His eyes drift slowly down Jon's body, and then snap back up, like that was a terrible mistake. Jon feels a thrill shoot down his spine, heat pooling in his groin. He feels a little guilty for it, but still, for years Theon has always been so bloody smug, so self-assured. Now, Jon has him – so much cooler, two years older, and in generally a lot more sexually experienced – pinned beneath his body, and putty in his hands.

Theon gulps, and meets Jon's eyes, his own wide and vulnerable. “Don't tell anyone?”

Jon is offended again. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Why wouldn't you?” Theon shrugs at him. “Mate, I've always been a fucking cunt to you, and now you wanna make out? Why wouldn't this just be your elaborate scheme to get revenge?”

Jon frowns. Okay, Theon has a point. It might in fact be very stupid of him if he decides go along with Jon here. But still. “ _Theon_ ,” he says, and gently he cups the other boy's jaw, leaning in close again. “That's not me. I promise, whatever we do here, I will never, ever use it against you.” He pauses. “I'll never mention it again.”

Theon looks up into his eyes, licks his lips. “You don't half talk a bit, Snow,” he says, which makes Jon snort. That's a new one. Usually he's getting told how quiet and sullen he is. “You ever gonna bloody kiss me?”

“I'm getting there,” he says, and Theon laughs. No time like the present though. He leans in and, softly, presses his lips against Theon's own.

It's pretty chaste at first. Again, Jon doesn't want to spook him. Theon freezes up at first, perhaps startled by the feel of stubble against his skin, but he gives in pretty easily. He leans back and lets Jon push against him further, his lips parting in a silent sigh, and Jon, unthinking, slips his tongue into Theon's mouth.

It's then things start getting out of hand.

Jon feels a hand grab his hip, almost about to pull him in but not, just squeezing the flesh, holding on. He groans and snakes his hand further around Theon's head, cupping the back of his neck, and he dives his down deeper into Theon's mouth. Theon moans, and rocks his hips up beneath him.

Jon gasps as Theon's crotch rubs against his own. He's – Theon's _hard_.

That shouldn't be a shock really; they are, after all a couple of teenage boys, making out. Jon should probably pull back, before he loses control and Theon does something he might regret, but Theon's firm grip on his hip tells him, he can't. Instead, he returns the movement, rolling his hips until Theon's cock pushes up against his own, rapidly hardening, and Jon moans himself then. This has definitely, absolutely gone too far, and they're going to take it further.

“Fuck,” Theon whispers, breaking away from Jon's mouth for air. But he doesn't stop. Jon watches as he closes his eyes, bites his lip and keeps needily thrusting up against him, panting like he's on heat.

Jon winds his fingers through Theon's hair and leans in closer, hooking his chin over Theon's shoulder. “That's it,” he says as Theon's groin rubs against his own, sparks of pleasure shooting throughout his body. “Just like that.” If he comes in his trousers he'll have to wash them before Mum gets home from work, but at the moment that seems like more than a fair trade.

“Oh god,” Theon whines, and then he kisses Jon again, possibly just to shut himself up. Jon groans, and then gasps when Theon bites down on his bottom lip, hard enough he worries that it'll be bruised tomorrow, and he'll have to come up with some excuse. Theon might not be the only one who's in over his head here.

He growls, and he grabs Theon by the shoulders, pushing him back further against the couch. He takes control. Theon moans in his mouth and lets him, his lips parting so, so willingly, his hands moving round to grab Jon's arse – not to squeeze or claim or leave a mark, but just to pull him closer.

Jon lets him, now grinding shamelessly down against Theon's crotch, chasing pure pleasure. The fact he meant to be doing this for Theon's sakes, to let him explore all the urges he'd been repressing, kind of gets forgotten about. Jon feels a hand leave his arse, which annoys him enough he wants to grab it and put it back, except then he feels Theon push it up his shirt, desperately rubbing all over Jon's abdomen. It's like he's afraid he'll never get to touch another man again, so he's taking all he can get now. Jon can't fault him for that.

He knows Theon's had a lot more sex than him, but he can't help but suspect that maybe, just maybe, this is the first time Theon's had sex he actually _enjoyed._

Theon breaks away for air again, and this time he buries his face in Jon's neck, whining and whimpering: “oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” His cock throbs hard against Jon's own.

There's a part of Jon that registers what's about to happen, but he doesn't really think about it. He doesn't really think at all. Thoughts of science experiments and school projects are long gone, and there is only base, animal lust, as raw and as pure on his part as it is on Theon's.

Theon grabs his nipple and squeezes, hard, enough Jon hisses in pain and his cock throbs harder. Then feel feels Theon shuddering desperately underneath him. _He's coming,_ thinks Jon, as he feels Theon's lap fill with heat and wetness. _He's coming. I made him come for me._ That's enough, and Jon lets out a loud, obscene groan as he spills himself, making an absolute mess of both their trousers. In a few moments, this will all be over, and they'll start thinking about consequences. But not yet.

As he comes down off his orgasm, Theon is still clinging to him, and Jon waits for Theon to pull his head up, to realise what they've just done. He runs his fingers through the other boy's hair, trying to be reassuring.

_1, 2, 3..._

Theon looks up, looks Jon in the eye again. He's already red from the sex, and now he goes even redder. “Uh, sorry mate,” he says. “Sorry, I have to–”

Jon finds himself shoved off and back onto the couch. He sighs. He didn't expect any different, really. Well, at least Theon's not punching him and calling him slurs – maybe he really meant that apology.

He watches as Theon hurriedly runs his fingers through his hair, tries to make himself presentable, adjusts his jeans so the cooling come will be less uncomfortable. Jon too can feel his own seed drying inside his tatty old briefs, and cringes. It doesn't feel nice.

“Right,” says Theon, still clearly panicked. He gets up and faces Jon again. “Listen, good luck with that project, alright? I didn't mean to fuck it up for you.” Jon frowns. Honestly, he kind of expected Theon to have forgotten all about that. “See you.”

Theon's gone before Jon gets the chance to say anything in return, and he's left blinking at the sound of his front door slamming, sweaty and panting and above all else, in desperate need of a shower.

He looks back down at the notes spread across the coffee table, and he sighs.

God, what a report he could write up on this one.

 


End file.
